Don't Fear the Reaper
by Digital-Dragon-Master
Summary: She comes to collect everyone upon their moment of dying. The pilots of Zearth are no exception. A Sandman/Bokurano crossover.
1. Prologue: Kokopelli

**Author's Notes:** So I think I'm going to give up on ever writing a multi-chapter story that's not a collection of drabbles or one-shots. My luck with them doesn't quite work.

With my venture into the Bokurano fandom, I was confused and unhappy to find such a…well, non-existent fandom. Thus I'm making my contribution. My best friend inspired me to write this story upon mentioning Sandman crossovers and idly bringing up Bokurano, even though she only knows of it through my incoherent rants. For those who don't know Sandman…well, don't worry – I haven't finished it and all you need to know is explained/implied pretty fast in this.

But, um. Bokurano fans? This has spoilers for the whole manga series, even in this chapter. Read at your own risk.

**Disclaimer:** Bokurano and Sandman do not belong to me, nor will they ever. Most sadly. :(

* * *

The cockpit had been so full of life a moment ago.

Fifteen children watching his world's final fight. And their world's first.

Fifteen children. _I'm sorry._

Fourteen of them had been contracted, including the younger Machi girl. He was almost grateful he wouldn't have to face the elder brother. The two had promised not to see each other again in this world. The punk didn't want to see his face again. The man couldn't blame him.

He wondered if the scar he'd given the elder Machi – the "Dung Beetle" of this world – hurt like his once had.

"Garaku."

He turned around, though he realized his body didn't turn with him. Instead, it lay slumped on the ground. He didn't realize death would come that fast.

A young woman in gothic clothing before him. Death.

"Or should I call you Kokopelli now?" Her lips remained a tight line as she watched him. "Seems that's how you'll be remembered in this world, anyway."

Garaku – no, Kokopelli – watched her with hollow eyes. "Take me to the place I'm supposed to be. Please."

Death walked up to him, hands on her hips. "I've got a question first. Out of all the people you could have picked, why kids?"

Why kids? Kokopelli didn't know. Was it easier that way? Tell adults they were going to "play a game" and they'd brush him off. Tell anyone the true meaning behind the fights and there would be a panic. So…it had to be kids. He didn't have time to organize a complicated pilot selection, not with his fight approaching.

But there was something more to the question.

"…Yoko made it easy," he explained. "The group she found had almost enough pilots. They came to me, I couldn't just turn away the perfect opportunity because she was their friend. Shame she has to die too. Her brother'll be pissed when he sees me again."

Death didn't say anything for a moment, nor did she lead him away. "…They might as well already be under my watch," she murmured a moment later.

A humorless smile crossed Kokopelli's face. He understood now.

"Am I going to Hell?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** A small explanation. Some of you might remember Dung Beetle saying Kokopelli had a scar across his face before he came to the world we follow in the manga. He got it because one of the other pilots cut him, and then "he cut the kid back." Now flash forward to the last chapter and when Dung Beetle regains his human form, what do you know – a scar. I put the pieces together while writing this. Thought it would be a fun little thing to include and it would explain just why Dung Beetle wasn't with Kokopelli when he was gathering the kids.


	2. Waku

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bokurano or Sandman. I will NEVER own Bokurano or Sandman.

* * *

No one told Takashi Waku death came that fast. One moment he stood on top of Zearth, surrounded by his friends, staring out at the horizon filled with an unyielding determination to protect the world with this great and powerful robot.

And the next he stood on top of Zearth, surrounded by his friends, watching his body plummet to the seas below filled with an unquenchable horror at the sudden turn of events.

When his friends refused to acknowledge him and instead focused on Ushiro, who _did not push him off why were they saying that_, Waku came to the complete and utter conclusion that he was dead. Absolutely dead.

"What…?" Waku's eyes remained on the violent seas his body most assuredly called its home now, the seas that probably kicked it about like a soccer ball, most ironically. He raised his hands in front of his face. Solid. He didn't look like a ghost. "What the hell…?"

"If you need a moment, that's okay." A female voice sounded from behind him, and unlike the unintelligible comments of the fourteen children behind him, this one seemed to be speaking to him. "As hard as this is to believe, I didn't realize this would happen so fast."

_You're telling me._ Waku turned to see a young woman – probably in her mid twenties, dressed from head to toe in black, hair somewhat wild but still tamed, choker adorning her neck and lips painted black – standing behind him.

Death.

He didn't know how he knew, just as he didn't know how he was dead, but he _knew_. Death stood before him in all her glory, here to take him away. She didn't scare him – just confused him. Why now? Why him? How?

He didn't realize he'd voiced these concerns until she answered, "It's not my place to say, Takashi."

"But I was just here!" Waku argued. He'd just made up his mind to save the world and talk to his father! "I was just here, with all of them!" He gestured to the fourteen he'd bonded with in the last week, a bond that he could little explain nor comprehend. "I'm supposed to save the world – so why am I dead? I'm a hero, aren't I?"

Death's hand rested on his head and he found himself unable to speak or even move. His throat closed up and his eyes glazed. "…Yes. You are a hero. What you did mattered. You'll be missed." Waku shut his eyes, trying to block out the faces of his parents. "You have to come with me now, okay, Takashi? I know it's hard to understand, but eventually…it'll make sense."

Shaking head raising to look Death in the eyes, Waku asked a pitiful question. "I'll be able to play soccer there?"

A smile somehow greeted him. "On the biggest field you can imagine." She removed her hand from his head and placed it around his shoulder. "Now come on. Leave this world to them."

With one last look back at his bewildered friends, Waku nodded, shutting his eyes and turning back to the horizon.

And then he was gone.


	3. Kodama

**Disclaimer:** I do not own neither Bokurano nor Sandman.

* * *

Masaru "Kodama" Kodaka didn't know it could hurt this much.

Those who died were just supposed to die. They weren't supposed to be fated for anything other than that. If you died, that was what was supposed to happen. If you lived, you were chosen for something more. You were _special_. You had a purpose in life.

So why did his father, the chosen man, die like the rest of them? Why did Zearth's hand crush his car? _Papa wasn't supposed to die. I wasn't supposed to kill Papa!_

Kodama barely registered when he slipped off his chair. Suddenly the world was black and then there again and he was standing with everyone else as Moji checked his body, the glasses he'd taken from Kokopelli discarded on the ground.

"Is he dead?"

"No!" Kodama shouted, shaking and holding his head. "No, I'm not dead! I'm special! I'm chosen! Like Papa…!"

Dung Beetle's horrid voice broke through his ravings. "What? Wait a sec. You don't know? This big doll moves…using the power of life force. Didn't that asshole tell you? Damn that Kokopelli. Leaves out the important stuff." If Kodama had any breath, it would be stuck in his throat now. "For every battle you finish, the pilot's life is taken away."

Nothing else mattered. The rest of the arguments – Kako punching at Dung Beetle, the other kids having their own separate breakdowns – didn't matter to Kodama. The boy crouched on the ground, gripping his head. He was dead. He was dead.

He was dead.

"I'm talking to a lot of people right now."

Yet that voice penetrated his cone of silence. A woman stood in front of him, her skin icy white and hair ebony black. A cross around her neck. He knew just who she was, but he didn't want to. "No…"

"Including your father." She bent down next to him.

"No…"

"You can see him when you come with me."

"No!" Kodama fell backward, landing on his rear and staring at Death with wide eyes. "No, I'm not supposed to be dead! I'm not! I'm not! I'm not…"

His voice dissolved into harsh, broken sobs and he curled into a ball, trying to pull his hair from his head. "I-I'm like Papa… I'm like Papa…"

A light weight on his shoulder made his head rise from his chest. Death's hand rested on him, yet it didn't feel cold like he thought it would. "Masaru. Dying doesn't have to be bad. Come with me. You'll see." She reached out her other hand for him to take.

Kodama shook and sniffed, starting to reach for her hand. He stopped, hesitating for a moment.

Death told him briskly, "Everyone has to come to me eventually, Masaru. It's your time. Come on." Somehow her voice remained gentle. It made him take her hand.

And he left the friends he'd made over the last week and a half to deal with their imminent fate and their own meetings with Death.

**Author's Notes:** I'll be updating this in sets of three or so, depending on the characters grouped. Check back in a few days for the next update.


	4. Daichi

**Author's Notes:** General apologies for taking longer than a week with these – therefore, double the update?

**Disclaimer:** Own Bokurano and Sandman, I do not.

* * *

What disturbed Daiichi "Daichi" Yamura was how fast it went. One moment he was alive and looking at his friends, wondering where his body would go after he died and then –

–and then everything ended and he watched himself collapse, the others looking on in horror and sadness. Most cried – not Ushiro, but Daichi didn't expect him to – and then a small, broken voice murmured, "I've been called, it's me, it's _me_," and Daichi almost didn't want to register that it was Nakama – kind, caring, if slightly withdrawn, Nakama – who was next to fight and kill and die.

"I know it hurts."

Daichi saw her before his brain registered it – she'd been there the whole time, actually, but he was focused on them instead – and took her in and understood who she was with a calm, resolved air.

She stood next to him, Death did, observing the somber cockpit. "But you can't do anything more for them."

Somehow the hidden meaning seemed so clear now. "Did they make it? My brother and sisters?" Daichi spent his fight protecting the amusement park he and Futaba and Santa and Yoshi would have visited together, had he not died. He hoped they would understand, never lose hope that he would return, even though he wouldn't.

Death looked at him, a curious gleam in her eyes. "Do you want to see them?"

Daichi swallowed. "Is that allowed?"

The gothic woman just glanced down at her open hand. "Go on – take it. Let's see."

He didn't waste a moment and his grieving friends dissolved. Before him his three siblings slept peacefully on the evacuation bus, his uncle and aunt and cousins talking in soft whispers that he could decipher though he could not hear. _'And Daiichi? What about Daiichi?' 'He left, he just gave them to me and left.' 'But he'll be okay, right? He'll come back?'_

The lump in his throat nearly choked him. He wanted to reach out a hand to put on his uncle's shoulder, to tell him to take good care of Futaba and Santa and Yoshi, to thank him again for all he'd done for them after his father disappeared.

But of course. He couldn't. He knew that.

"Don't worry." He almost forgot Death was there. She gave him a sad yet hopeful smile. "I won't see them for a long time. You protected them."

Somber eyes drifting away from his siblings, Daichi asked, "Can I go now?" He sounded more vulnerable than he had in years, than he'd let himself sound in years. Now he could be a child again, the right his father robbed of him.

"Of course." Death held out her hand again and as Daichi took it, he knew this time he wouldn't be taken to any place he'd seen before.


	5. Nakama

**Disclaimer:** You think I have enough creative fluid or angst-power to own Sandman or Bokurano? Pfft.

* * *

Mako "Nakama" Nakarai didn't even have time to say goodbye. She thought she'd be prepared for it – the suddenness of just not _being _– but when it actually happened and she was aware of the sobs and cries, she could only think how utterly horrible it was that she couldn't even say goodbye.

"Was it like this for them too?"

Death didn't miss a beat, walking up to stand besides Nakama. This girl, for some reason, seemed more at ease than the others. "You mean did it happen that fast? Yeah."

Nakama watched as Dung Beetle teleported her body away, utterly transfixed on the spot it used to lay upon. Awkwardly, tentative as a gazelle through lion's territory, she murmured, "I thought it would hurt more."

A gentle hand – shouldn't it be colder and harsher if it were the hand of Death? – touched her shoulder. "We should go."

Finally Nakama turned from the group, shutting out the hysterical screams of one of the others – it was Kako, wasn't it? – as he was inevitably chosen to be the next pilot. She'd gotten so good at shutting things out. Odd to say, but she looked Death in the eye and asked in a low, serious tone, "What is the real point of these fights?"

Wasn't Death smiling supposed to be impossible? If it was, Nakama just viewed the impossible. "That's not my job."

"But you do know," pressed Nakama.

Almost curiously, Death replied, "And if I do, does that change anything? I can't tell you – and besides, that wouldn't help you right now."

"Nothing would help me!" Nakama finally let it all loose – the hurt, the anger, the pain. "I'm dead! I'm dead and my mom's all alone and I just piloted a giant _thing _that's killed countless people! Every single fight – we've hurt those we're supposed to protect. How can anything help me when I know I did that too? When all this gets out…and mom has to live with the knowledge she's got a murderer for a daughter…"

Again Death's hand landed on her shoulder, but this time it was firm. "Mako." Nakama shook as she looked at Death, fighting to hold back tears. "Right now… Right now, in this world, I'm only talking to _you_."

That broke her. Nakama suddenly registered the fact that her cheeks were wet and her eyes hurt and her mouth shook.

"Do you understand what that means?"

Just as she'd done before she started her fight, when Kako berated her for making uniforms – the clothes they would all die in – for the others, Nakama broke, bringing her hands clasped in front of her chest and almost collapsing…yet Death held her up, extending her other arm in a hug.

Gratefully, Nakama fell into it and shut her eyes and before the light claimed her imagined she was in her mother's arms.


	6. Kako

**Disclaimer:** No owning here.

* * *

Isao "Kako" Kako died in shock, a knife wound in his neck. Thus, when he awoke again, he started to scream. He backed away from the others as they looked at his body – at Chizu with her eerie clam smile, his blood on her face. He couldn't be laying there – no, if he was laying there, she'd killed him. And sweet, sweet Chizu couldn't kill him, she was _Chizu _and he wanted her so much it hurt sometimes, and yeah, he'd tried to make her his, but that was because he was scared, okay? He was scared and -

- "Look at me!" He screamed at the others, still frozen in their shock. "Look at me, look at me, look at me! I'm not dead! I'm **not**!"

"Sorry." His screams grew even more erratic as he heard the new voice, saw the gothic woman standing next to him. "You're wrong on that one."

He knew who she was but he didn't want to. "No! NO, NO, NO! You're not here – get away!" Death – because that's who she was obviously – approached him and he just backed away. "Get **away**! If you don't touch me, I'm still here!"

A hand reached out to him and he smacked it away, just like his mother's when she tried to reach out to him. Just like every hand that tried to reach out to him. This time, however, the hand grabbed back. Kako stared, wide-eyed, as Death held his hand, the same hand that had pushed away his family and hurt Kirie – the one person who'd wanted to be his friend – and pinned Chizu to the ground and pulled at her clothes. And then? Death sighed.

"I should've known you'd be a hard one in death, Isao." She gave him a lop-sided smile that held no humor. "After the way you've lived your life? No way would you take this laying down."

Kako trembled, his eyes drifting around the cockpit. Everyone continued about – his body was gone now, Dung Beetle took it away, Machi was yelling something at Chizu, who was now the pilot, and Chizu still had blood on her face and that hardened look in her eyes – and paid them no attention. Did that mean he was really, really dead?

"You are." Death's eyes pierced him and he wanted to hit her and run – but that would do nothing. "Don't even try it." She _knew_ him. "Running's what got you here, right? You ran from a lot and because of that you're here, now." She added almost as an afterthought, "Don't get me wrong, you would've been here right after your battle, but it could have been a lot less messy. And what was with listening to that floating bug-guy? That didn't help you either."

"St-stop." Kako's voice lacked the command from before, melted away to reveal the thirteen-year-old boy he was and not the man in command he wanted to be. The control he desired disappeared. That control was lost the moment he put his hand on the contractor, or maybe it was already gone the moment he sucked up to the boys in school, wormed his way into them as a messenger boy and rejected Kirie's friendship.

Death knew that, it seemed. Kako _hated _that. "Don't think I don't like you." His hysteria drifted off his face to the ground for a moment, eyebrows knitting together and mouth quivering. "Look, I've done the coddling for the others – your friends – but some don't need that. If I told you what a good boy you were and how you'd fought your hardest – that would be a lie. Enough people have given you that. You don't need what you had in life going into death, okay?" She let go of his hand and idly gestured to Chizu, who was easily piloting Zearth with the same calm control she'd used to kill Kako. "She knew that. You were drawn to her because you knew she wouldn't put up with it. Maybe you thought you could change yourself."

Just when Kako started to accept what Death said, she lost her philosopher's gaze. "Of course, that's more of my brother-sister's domain. Or maybe my idiot little brother. If he could talk to you…" She drew away from him, though she stayed utterly still. It seemed like they shared something, a moment of some kind. And then it ended. "Well, come on, then. You don't want to stay here any longer, I don't think."

Though he hadn't realized it, the cockpit had filled with fearful calls while Chizu continued her piloting. She was no longer attacking the robot, but – to Kako's utter horror – aiming at parts of a city.

"Stop he–" Death shook her head before Kako had even completed his feeble command.

"No can do. This is her choice. I'll help those people on their way, and then Chizuru as well. I think Destruction will want to talk with her, eventually. And Despair." Kako didn't know if he was meant to hear these comments. Death held out a hand to him. "Now come on. You don't want to see this anymore. You want to rest, don't you?"

And with a tearful voice, he croaked out, "I don't want to die," and he let her put an arm around him like he hadn't let anyone do his entire life.

"Most don't. But I think if you give it a chance, it can be as wonderful as you want it to be…"

And it was.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm trying to refrain from using these until the end of the sections I update, but I just thought it would do well to mention that I didn't like Kako very much when I was reading his chapters. All of his decisions sickened me – but I guess his reaction was so real that it sickened a lot of people. So I was surprised when I found I enjoyed writing this drabble the most so far. Death had a lot to do here, didn't she?


	7. Chizu

**Disclaimer: **Seventh verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a whole lot worse.

* * *

Chizuru "Chizu" Honda was almost relieved with how peaceful it was. Like she drifted off to sleep at the end of the day, her eyes shut and never opened. She deserved to die, she knew. After all those people suffered for her revenge, she deserved to die.

Dung Beetle did as she asked, teleporting her body away into the crevices of Zearth. Her family would never be burdened with her.

"Did you appear to them as well?" Chizu knew who stood behind her. She didn't dare face her.

Death sighed, crossing her arms. "Sharp girl. Yes, I saw all the people who died when you killed those men. I'm here for everyone, whether they want me or not."

The sentence sounded almost like a mantra to Chizu's finely trained ears. She knew one when she heard one – she'd created some of her own in the past months, after all. _'I'm fine.' 'No, I don't need any help.' 'It's just a stomach bug, don't worry.' 'I'm going to be okay.'_

"I know how terrible it was," Chizu murmured as she watched the other pilots slowly deduce her baby was also contracted – _what a sick horrible world we live in._ "But I had to."

A small chuckle finally caused Chizu to turn and look at Death. The woman before her looked at her, an odd twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to lecture you. You're messed up as it is, aren't you?" Chizu nodded mechanically. "You haven't actually lived in a long time."

"That's right…" The broken girl reflected silently, wondering when it was that she started going through life and not living it. Her first thought would be when those men Mr. Hatagai gave her to gang raped her, but no – no, it was before that. It was when she started devoting her time to making a man who was only trouble happy, even though she knew nothing good could ever come of it. The day she decided to chase Mr. Hatagai was the real day she died.

And the day her baby was created…

A sudden realization came to Chizu. "You see everyone, right?"

Death, who had been watching her silently, nodded in confirmation. "Everyone. I'm omnipresent that way."

"And you have some control over their deaths?" Chizu pressed.

This received a soft head shake. "No, I only take them to wherever they'll go after life."

The hope that had built up in Chizu's stomach like the rising sun fell, but she refused to give up. "And where is that? Do we all go there?"

"It's different for everyone," Death admitted flippantly. "You'll see soon enough."

Chizu put a hand to her stomach and slowly, carefully, asked, "And what about my baby? Where will it go?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Can I decide where it goes?"

Death raised an eyebrow. "Now, that's an odd question. Since it hasn't developed much of a mind…" She trailed off, putting a hand to her chin.

And now Chizu happened upon her true question. "Can my baby be reborn to my sister?"

Formerly casual eyes narrowed slightly, all friendly air gone. "That's not a normal request."

"Can it?" Chizu took a step closer. "You're with it too now, aren't you?"

As an answer, a slumbering baby – fully developed, not still a fetus as it was in Chizu's womb – appeared before her, settling into her arms. Chizu's eyes filled with tears; though this baby had been created of her unmaking, it was still hers. "A girl…" She felt faint but daren't drop her child. "She's…a girl."

The soft air had returned and somehow Death was right beside her. "Now you're with her too."

"Please." Her voice shook as she looked at the Mistress of Death. "_Please_. Don't let her suffer for what I did. She deserves a happy life – a real life."

"You did a lot of horrible things." Death's voice held no condemnation. She spoke only facts. "Killed a lot of people."

"I know." Chizu's voice still shook, but only with tears. She held a mask of resolute over her broken face. "And I'll pay my price. I promise I will. Don't let her pay it with me, please."

A moment passed between the both of them. In that moment, Chizu could have thought a thousand things, a thousand reflections and a thousand hopes. But she only had one: _Please._ The moment ended and Death reached out wordlessly to the baby. Chizu trusted Death like she had trusted no one in her life and gave the result of her mistakes – and the one thing she still loved – to her. For one named for death, the other woman held the baby with a great consciousness for its life. She focused not on Chizu, but on the small being in her arms.

"…It may take years for her to actually be born. She'll be in a stasis and you will not be able to see her." Chizu couldn't breathe. She didn't need to anymore, but. But she couldn't gather anything into her lungs and she couldn't think straight. Death looked at the stunned girl. "Can you handle that?"

Chizu nodded mutely, her arms – still held in a cradling position, still feeling her child's warmth – shaking. "Yes, I- yes. Thank… Th-thank–"

Death cut her off with a smile. "Do you want to hold her one more time? You can carry her as I take you to the afterlife."

"Can I…?" Chizu cradled her baby – her very living baby – to her chest, tears falling onto the slumbering infant's skin. For a moment, she thought she would collapse and drop her child – but Death's arm wrapped around her and kept her standing.

"Come on, Chizuru. Let's go."

Chizu nodded again, but this time with a radiant smile, one that had died a long time ago.

Finally, Chizu and the girl she had once been were reunited.


	8. Inter'acte: The Baby

**Disclaimer:** Nope.

* * *

For one moment, she saw a bright light and she knew she was going to die. She knew everything was over before it began, her life was done and she didn't even get to live it.

But then. Then the light began to fade and a mature voice whispered _Not yet, little one, _and a younger voice but a voice she just **knew** said _You get to live, my baby gets to live,_ and if she could she would have gurgled out _Mama _but nothing came.

And then nothing for a long time, but she didn't know it was a long time.

Then the mature voice returned and drew her close and said _Your mother loved you very much but it's time to go back,_ and she didn't know if she really wanted to because wasn't her mama somewhere out there? Wasn't the younger voice still watching over her? But the mature one didn't give her a choice, she just took her away from the wherever-she-was and everything went light again and then.

And then.

And then…

* * *

"It's a girl!"

Ichiko, drenched in sweat but smiling nevertheless, looks at the crying bundle in the nurse's arms. Her husband stands by, smiling as well (though his hand was probably numb from how tight she'd been squeezing it).

"Let's give her a bath and then we'll bring her back for you to hold."

Among the hustle and bustle, everyone moving, there is nothing for Ichiko but the sight of the beautiful baby before her. Even as she rests in her hospital bed, there is nothing…

…except her dear late sister, standing in the corner with a young woman in gothic attire. Chizu smiles at Ichiko and later the woman would blame the drugs the doctors are giving her to help her sleep.

Though she will remember the moment-that-couldn't-have-been when she and her husband are discussing names and she will suddenly ask, "What about Chizuru?" and her husband will smile approvingly and that will be that.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I was hesitant to write this chapter, but I realized Chizu's baby was a pilot too – and to be honest, it just seemed extremely _Sandman _of me after Nada.


	9. Moji

**Author's Notes**: Sorry for the delay on this batch. General life and new games got in the way of writing. I'm aware that in the manga and anime, Moji's given name is Kunihiko Moji, making Kunihiko his first name, but due to reading the novel, I've come to feel it impossible to refer to him as anything other than Moji Kunihiko. Please forgive this small bending of canon.

**Disclaimer:** Read my mind. I'm thinking exactly what I have for the other chapters, most sadly.

* * *

Moji "Moji" Kunihiko almost wanted to watch them.

He had died only moments after the doctors had prepared him for the operation, and now they were in the midst of cutting into him, carefully but quickly removing his heart before it reached the point where it would be of no use to Nagi; Nagi who was blissfully under anesthesia and unaware that his new heart would come from his best friend…

A hand on his shoulder not only alerted him to her presence, but pulled him away from the sight of the surgeons crowding around his body. "Come on, you really wanna torture yourself like that?"

Moji took in her appearance. Long black hair, a simple tank top. Pale skin, a necklace with a cross – it was the Ankh, right? – around her neck. Black jeans. An odd look about her face, like she wanted to talk. Such a simple creature couldn't be Death, and yet Moji absolutely knew she was.

"You're here for me." He looked her in the eye, his cool gaze matching her warm one.

"Pretty certain, aren't you?" She replied flippantly, continuing to pull him – albeit gently – from the room. "Just like you're certain that you need to watch those docs fix up your friend, huh?"

Her words would not shake him. "After the thoughts I had, I owe him that much."

Death seemed to hold back rolling her eyes – was she making light of this…? "Oh, please. Like you're the only kid who's wanted to kill his friend at one point."

Her words did shake him. Moji pulled himself from her grip and protested, "I'm not like other kids! I had the means! And-!"

"And you were overcome by a moment of weakness that you soon got over." Death put her hand back on his shoulder. "What is it about you kids that makes me have to talk to you more than others, hm?"

The anger that rolled from Moji like ocean waves receded, the tide coming in. "…You talked to the others?"

Death nodded. "Yep, every single one. And I'll keep talking as long as you need me. I'm here for everyone when they die, Moji."

His shoulders slumped. "…Will Tsubasa be happy?"

Death blinked, momentarily silent. "You kids also ask odd questions. I can't answer that one. All I can say is your friend – yes, he _is_ going to make it through this operation, by the way – will do his best to make her happy. He loves her, but you already know that, don't you?" A smile almost came to her lips, but no, he couldn't call it that. A smile after such a statement would be horribly mocking and cruel, and this woman was neither. This was not the smile one would expect on Death's lips. "You don't want to see her, do you?"

Not a moment passed before Moji shook his head. Certainty. "I'm dead and she's alive. That is very definite. I shouldn't forget that."

And because Moji absolutely needed it right then, Death commented, "You're strong," and Moji wondered if this was what it felt like to have an older sister, though he didn't know just where that thought came from. He'd never wondered about such things before.

The two walked – right through the hospital door, down the halls, into the elevator (a nurse inside, poking a pencil at a clipboard, almost sure someone else stood beside her but not crazy enough to entertain the thought) though they needn't use it – in silence. She didn't offer her hand and the afterlife like he expected, and he didn't ask. The elevator dinged and they got off, walking on – into the waiting room, past the anxious families, out the door, into the sunlight – and Moji wondered if they were going to see the sight of the Zearth battle, though it was a foolish thought – by now, Dung Beetle had absolutely teleported it back to the military base.

Then they stopped – one not before the other, just in unison though Moji didn't know why – and looked up at the sun. It didn't blind him like it did while he was alive. What a beautiful sight. He could look at it all he wanted and not have to ever withdraw his gaze.

"So." He hadn't forgotten her. "Any other questions?"

It danced on the tip of his tongue, leaping like embers in a fire. It wanted to get out, but he would hold it back. "No."

"C'mon. Anything?" Moji spied Death in his peripheral vision. She almost smiled again, but again it wasn't a smile.

"…Why is the vital point on the other robots shaped like our cockpit?"

The side glance wasn't enough now. Moji turned to look at her, and now her gaze held something more – something that resembled pity – and she replied, "I can't answer that question," but to him it sounded more like _"Don't you already know?"_

Maybe he would feel it when the surgeons removed his heart from his lifeless body. Maybe that was why at that very moment a sharp pain spread from his chest to his ribs to his arms to his stomach to his legs to his feet to his hands to his toes to his fingers to his neck to his head. That, when he had time to reflect, was what he would tell himself.

"…Am I done?" His mouth moved mechanically and Death's hand on his shoulder returned, but it pulled him into a hug and he could barely hear the "Yeah, you're done," over the brilliant light that rang in his ears.


	10. Maki

**Disclaimer:** Even if I say it in red text, it wouldn't make it true.

* * *

She died smiling. Maki "Maki" Ano died smiling.

It wasn't like she wanted to die, but it just so happened to come at the exact moment she'd pinpointed her father and her mother with Zearth's life force sensing ability. It just so happened to come at the exact moment her mother gave birth to her baby brother.

So even though she would never get to physically see him or hold him, she'd shared a moment with him unlike any anyone could share with their siblings ever. And so she died smiling.

Then she couldn't see the shining lights anymore and returned to the cockpit, except her body was slumped over on the ground and the others – even Ushiro – were looking away, all somber. And Komo – her best friend, Takami Komoda – was crying.

"Komo..." She reached at hand to her friend, she started to walk toward her.

A sudden voice stopped and shook her. "She can't hear you now."

Startled by the sudden person – she didn't recognize that voice, and no one else could get into the cockpit so how could a voice she didn't recognize talk to her? – Maki yelped and turned around, searching for the source-

-and she found a young woman, who had wild yet tame black hair and very very pale skin and a black t-shirt and jeans and some kind of odd necklace. The back of her mind deduced she was like a character from an anime or manga, but the front of her mind chided those childish thoughts – she was dead, she had to be serious.

"Ehhhh? Who-?" Maki sputtered and stared but didn't need an answer, did she? This woman had to be who she thought she was because it was the only thing that made _sense_, or did it?

A small laugh – not a malicious one by far, but a simple, amused chuckle – broke from the woman's lips, and she reached up a hand to cover her mouth, though Maki still caught the little smile and in turn, despite the crying that surrounded her, she smiled.

The woman reached out a hand – a greeting. "I'm Death."

Oh, so she'd been right.

Maki looked at it for a moment and, upon deducing it wasn't going to morph into a fanged-beast and eat her, shook it.

All at once, Death started pulling her away from the others, from the center of the cockpit. Wait, was it time already? No, Maki wasn't ready for that yet!

"Don't worry," Death soothed. That seemed odd. Really odd. "I'm not taking you to rest yet. We just have to make a detour."

"Detour?" Maki echoed. She took a look back at the cockpit. This whole event – of Death appearing and greeting the dead girl – took place in only seconds, for she then heard Kirie's murmurings of "I can't do it.. I don't think I can fight..." and even Kana who had buried her head in Kanji's torso looked at him, the others trying to find the words to convince him otherwise-

-Death's hand squeezed Maki's. "Leave this world to them, now. You've done your part."

If she could breathe, Maki knew the air would have caught in her throat as she turned away from her living friends and blocked out their words. "...You said something about a detour?"

"Only if you want to," Death added with a nod. "If not, we can go straight away."

Never did it occur to Maki to ask where this detour would take them. Or maybe it did, but she decided against asking it.

"O-...okay." Her free hand shook a little. "Let's go."

Amazing. The calm just spread through her body, from her heart outward, and yet her hand refused to be quelled. Her voice box stayed utterly still – probably because, she supposed, she couldn't breathe anymore. Could it even vibrate? Or was that not how it worked? Was she getting it wrong again?

_Don't worry about stupid stuff_, she thought before the Zearth cockpit – still full of shock and crying, Captain Tanaka kneeling with a hand on Komo's shoulder and the others (most of them, Ushiro still looked indifferent, or did he?) staring at Kirie - dissolved away in a bright light-

-and a hospital room melted into its place.

Her mother was still screaming, her father holding her hand and breathing even deeper than she was in the exercises.

"Whoa, wait," Maki gasped, turning to Death. "I thought it was over, why's she still-"

Death held up a hand to stop her questions. "You saw your baby brother's soul being born. Not his physical body. Your mother's just finishing the process."

This did calm her down quite a bit. She made a conscious effort _not_ to look at her mother's lower half, now that she fully realized her baby brother wasn't quite out yet.

And then Death's hand was out of hers, and Maki turned to see a very, very small shape gathered in her arms. Maki didn't need to ask who that was. "Do you want to hold him?" Death's question didn't need an answer.

As Maki took her baby brother into her shaking arms, she could have sworn she saw a shine in Death's eyes - like a sense of familiarity, a sense that she had seen this before, almost in a way - but that was only something she would reflect on later, something she would wonder about long after the hospital room and the soul of her baby brother nestled in the crook of her arms.

The baby's eyes were closed, but he reached up a small pudgy hand toward her, like he could see. He could see her, like she could see him back before. Another moment that no other siblings could ever have. So absolutely comfortable against her, in a way that no one else could ever experience.

"What's his name?" Maki asked, though she couldn't quite realize she'd spoken. "D-dad isn't going to name him Xabutongle, is he?"

Death laughed. That didn't seem odd anymore. "No. He doesn't have a name yet." She didn't let Maki ask her question. "...But it's going to be Kazuki. Kazuki Ano."

How she was able to cry, Maki never figured out. There were some things, it seemed, that spirits could still do outside their physical bodies. She still smiled, though. As her tears fell on Kazuki's little dark tuft of hair, she smiled, so brightly and widely, so much that she was sure if any of her friends could have currently tapped into Zearth, they would see her before anyone else, because at this moment, it didn't matter that she was dead.

With her brother, she was alive.

"...Maki." Death's hand rested on her shoulder and she was aware of her mother's screams and a nurse telling her to push just one more time. "It's time for him to meet his mom and dad."

Maki held him so tightly but still gently. "I hope," she whispered, "that I don't see you again for a very, very long time. Then we can talk. About your friends. About your life. About everything I won't be able to see. We can talk. Forever."

She handed Kazuki back to Death, and he seemed to reach out to her, which almost made it impossible to give him up. They belonged to different worlds now, though, and Maki had to remember that. Death handled him with the care of a mother. She brushed a hand over his cheek, walked over to the hospital bed, and laid him on his mother's stomach.

And then he was gone and then there was crying, so much crying, and a relieved sigh, and a nurse's congratulatory words.

And Maki had to tell Death that she had to leave right then, because she couldn't stay there when her father inevitably would ask someone to bring Maki in to meet her little brother.

"Let's go now," Death murmured, and Maki pretended the hand on her shoulder was her mother's as the lights grew bright again.


	11. Kirie

**Author's Notes:** So I wrote this far after the previous two. I really had a difficult time braining out Kirie. I suppose you should always finish a canon story before getting head-canon and fanon involved, because quite impossibly I have a hard time differentiating sometimes. Regardless, I will see this through to the end and then promptly start writing fanon stuff. How ridiculous of me.

**Disclaimer:** No ownership.

* * *

The battle had not take as long as he'd thought it would. In fact, Yousuke "Kirie" Kirie was nearly surprised when he passed on. How embarrassing.

What was more embarrassing was the rest of the pilots. They – most of them, at least, not Ushiro, of course – were silently regarding his body, silently mourning. They didn't need to. He was just one person, after all. Regardless, he was somewhat curious about who would be going next. Who would be next to receive the call and pilot Zearth?

"You're always going to be watching them, aren't you?"

The voice hadn't surprised him. The woman stood at his side, but he didn't look her way. Honestly what she looked like didn't matter. It wasn't her true form, he knew. "You're here to collect me."

"You don't hesitate or stutter nearly as much when you're dead, Yousuke," Death said. He thought he could hear her smiling, if that was possible. He wondered how she could know this, though. He'd only spoken once. "I know a lot of things, kid."

Right. Death was not like a human sentience. Death did not operate on the rules that humans had created for themselves. It reminded him of the Game. It did not operate on the rules that humans had created either.

"You also don't talk nearly as much as the others did." The woman stretched and walked in front of him. An odd look for Death, but not really. The Ankh was a nice touch. "They were all chatter."

Kirie nodded, as if accepting. If she was talking to him, then of course she had spoken to the other pilots. His – were they friends? – teammates. "Chizu...?"

Death's eyes sparkled and he knew he wouldn't receive an answer. A soft sob and a gasp alerted him to the world of the living. It seemed Komo was the next pilot. Anko and Machi were by her side, providing her what comfort they could. Kana was crying. Kana cried a lot. She was allowed, she was a child.

_We're all children_, he thought idly. But not anymore. Right? Or maybe it was right that children were giving this Earth new life. They had the most to give, after all.

Death whistled and sighed. "Wow, I really am being ignored this time."

"Ah..." Kirie found that odd. Ignoring Death. Somehow he knew there was some greater meaning he could take from it all, but really there was no point in that; he was simply lost in his thoughts. Ignoring Death. Ignoring Death was not anything special to him. That's what he made of it. "S...sorry. I didn't mean to."

A gentle smile drifted over Death's lips and she remarked, "You're always a quiet boy. You didn't have any last words like the others. When you say a lot, then it means something. So it's natural you don't have any words for Death."

That made sense. Death made a lot of sense. If he could tell the others that, would they have laughed at him? Would Kako have hit him?

"You know," Death started, turning him away from the cockpit. He realized at that moment that he could no longer hear them speaking. "You know, I didn't think I'd meet one of you who didn't really need to talk to me. Not here, anyway."

Kirie looked at her, studied her. "You've done this a lot, haven't you? You've talked to a lot of people who have played the Game. I imagine you're talking to the girl I killed. And all the people on her Earth. And at this moment, the probability that another Earth is dying is very likely. That's only counting the people who have died through the Game. There are many others who are dying of other reasons right now. And you're talking to all of them, at the same time."

And Death laughed. "See? Your words always mean something."

Kirie flushed. But he didn't have any blood. Was it what his mind created? He was forcing death to work on human rules. Humans were powerful things, weren't they?

"Do you want to talk to her? The other pilot."

Kirie shook his head. "This is her time. Not mine. All our experiences should be separate."

Death's hand remained on his shoulder. He noticed it was shining.

He looked at her face and her smile grew thin, her eyes small. "I can't keep someone who's ready around any longer. It's been a nice chat, though."

A nod in response. "Ah." A noise of understanding. "...Did the others ask why? Or how? Or who?"

"All experiences should be separate." Death was teasing him. Maybe. She still looked very sad.

"Ah."

"Are you going to ask?"

Instead, the glow spread from his shoulder down to his toes and up to his head.

And Kirie joined the rest of the pilots – he joined the rest of the dead.


	12. Komo

**Author's Notes**: I know I usually wait until I have at least three chapters, but I had to post this one right now, I really did. I started to write it and it struck me as being so poignant... Honestly, what is it with the ones I think will be the most difficult turning out to be my favorites?

**Disclaimer:** I am not messed up to own anything that I am writing about. The first part is a lie, but I still don't own it.

* * *

In her last moments, she knew it, for sure, how beautiful the world. Takami "Komo" Komoda knew how beautiful the world she had spent her life isolated from was, how every single part of it was a miracle that was almost too impossible to be true.

She had protected that miracle. She had sacrificed her family's well-being for that miracle – or rather, no, so they could continue to live in that miracle. So they could continue to be that miracle.

So as she, the girl called Komo, fell, the sight of her father bringing a smile to her lips, she knew that it was okay that she died. Even though she wanted to experience that miracle herself, it was okay that she died right here.

And then suddenly, Komo was not falling. She was standing on the stage, looking out at the startled audience and her horrified father, as they stared at her body on the ground.

It was odd, because her father had called her name just as she slipped from one world to the next. For a moment, her ears were filled with a sudden rush of sound, like a crashing wave or a constricting tide, and then everything returned to normal. Her father's cry twisted and shuddered against this, making it distorted. Broken, for an instant. The only way she could tell that she was no longer alive.

She watched, silent, stunned, as her father picked up her body and carried her out, the audience – the audience of military men – far too surprised to try and stop him. She watched, silent, stunned, as her father left the auditorium.

And then, she started to run after him. "Father!" She called out. The crowd now started to move. She didn't think – she just kept running, not into the men but through them. It was only at that moment that she felt cold.

Her father didn't hear her. As she walked through the door, the world again was a tidal wave, a crash of water, and then she could hear him talking.

"I am going to leave the military."

"As you wish," replied Mr. Sasami, who stood by stoically.

"Do you think I might learn to play the piano with these hands?" He was looking at her, not at the her who could hear him, but the her in his arms, the prone, still, lifeless form, never to move again. "The hands that killed my daughter."

"Father..." She couldn't breathe. But maybe that was because she didn't need to breathe anymore, though something certainly was caught in her throat, constricting it. She couldn't breathe, the soul that was Komo.

And then a murmuring, a murmuring in her ear, "Shhh..."

She turned with a start, and there was a young woman, pale and tall, black hair, somehow wild yet tamed, an Ankh around her neck (she had read about them), a black dress, elegant yet simple. All at once, Komo knew who the woman was, though she didn't want to accept it.

"Just listen," urged Death, gentle but insistent.

She almost asked what to listen for, but then Mr. Sasami said, "Colonel Komoda- er, I mean... Mr. Komoda," because he was no longer a military man, "I realize this might not be much consolation," and her father looked at him, turned his narrow gaze on the stoic man, "but she has a very content, serene expression on her face."

It was very clear.

Komo couldn't breathe.

How could a soul cry? Was it another miracle that she had discovered far too late? It must have been, because the soul that was Komo started crying then, her hands clenched in front of her chest as her father, head bowed, walked away, his daughter in his arms.

The auditorium started to empty, Mr. Sasami was gone, Captain Tanaka and Captain Seki were not there, though they were supposed to be, Mr. Tate did not exit with everyone else, and the man who Mr. Komoda had killed, the pilot from the other world, was nowhere to be found. Only later would Komo work out that the two captains had moved the body immediately, cleaned up the blood and what was left of the man's head, for Mr. Komoda hadn't wasted his shot, cleaned it all up quickly so the men in the auditorium wouldn't know, so the public wouldn't know, for keeping the recital hall clear for too long was impossible. Only later would she understand just how fast everyone had moved, and just how much preparation had been put into this. Only after the media rushed over everything, stormed the building, questioned everyone they could, searched for the Komoda family, who was nowhere to be found. Only after all of that would she truly understand.

But right now, and for long after the recital hall emptied (how long? time was irrelevant to souls, after all), Komo stayed there, hands clenched in front of her, and cried. Cried for her parents, who could never again have a normal life, for her friends, who would join her later, for her opponent, who had lost the will to fight for his world, for everyone who would ever have to experience something so horrible like this.

And she cried for herself, who had waited far too late to realize how beautiful the world was.

The whole time, while she cried, a hand remained on her shoulder, a presence remained there. Death did not speak. She didn't say anything, but Komo knew. She knew that the woman would remain there. It was a silent promise, one that she had always known, in retrospect.

As the world hurried and bustled, trying to figure out what had happened, where the girl who was the pilot of Zearth was, who that man who appeared out of nowhere was, Takami Komoda remained in one spot.

Until finally. Finally.

The sobs subsided. She didn't look any different than from when they started. Souls were odd things. They were left in silence. The building was dark.

"It was a beautiful recital," Death said honestly. "Very few can play like that."

Komo's hands, now at her sides, went lax. "It was beautiful," she echoed, but she wasn't talking about her playing. "It was all...so beautiful." Wistful. Hopeful. Mourning. Regretful.

"Takami. Don't worry. The miracle isn't over yet." She didn't look at Death. "It doesn't just end with life. The world after is a miracle all its own."

For the first time since the woman appeared, Komo turned to look at her. A gentle smile was on her face, a comforting one. So soft, not like one would imagine for such a being. Another miracle. "...The other worlds that are out there. Are they as wonderful as this one?"

Death assured, "Every single one of them."

"And how many of them are there?"

A silence passed between them, and Death said, "Do you like the dress? It's just for you. A little artist deserves to meet someone dressed right after the best concert of her life."

And Komo knew, then.

She returned Death's smile. "I think it's lovely." She sighed, closing her eyes, a brilliant light behind them. The world really was beautiful. She could still see it, even now.

"I bet you feel like an encore." Sound was not covered by a crashing wave. It was not covered by the tide. It was muted, as if her head was just underneath the water, but she could still breathe. As if she were gazing up at the sky, floating on top of a stream. "There are a lot of people who want to hear your amazing sound."

And the light grew brighter.


	13. Inter'acte II: Katari

**Disclaimer:** No.

* * *

Junji Karita. He didn't have a nickname. He wouldn't receive his nickname until after death. They. The kids he had unknowingly gotten involved with.

They called him Katari. So we will call him Katari.

Katari's family was broken. Ripped apart. It would, in moments, die, destruct, leaving the scattered remains of him and Souji, his little brother, his baby brother, who he tried so hard to protect. He lied. He made up stories. Why wouldn't he? If it could protect Souji, why wouldn't he? But Souji came home with scratches all the time.

But it was what his parents would do. If it made Souji feel better at the moment, why wouldn't he lie? Katari wanted to make Souji feel better, because his parents didn't love each other.

But it made it worse. So he wouldn't lie anymore.

Except for one last time. Just to fix everything. He would become a national celebrity. For his family. For Souji.

He would trap them. The real pilots. He would become the pilot himself. He did. He contacted a local news crew. They were desperate for a story. He gave them it. They knew he was lying. That didn't matter. All that mattered was the story.

All that mattered was the story.

So Katari told his story. He was chosen. He was special, so his family would be special. The station told him to put a spin on it. A war spin. So he did. Effortlessly, he talked of how he and Takami Komoda were the only pilots (because those children weren't supposed to be involved, those children couldn't be the actual pilots, they were all a year younger than he was, and that was impossible), how Zearth would conquer other nations, how Japan was developing more robots, how the world would become theirs. All because he was chosen. Because he was special.

No one would ever bully Souji again.

The world loved him, as he walked outside. He knew it. He was a celebrity. He was a very wonderful celebrity.

And then, Katari felt a sharp pain.

And then, Katari was standing next to a hospital bed, looking down at a body, head bandaged.

_That's my body._

Katari screamed.

Arms wrapped around him as his hands went to his head, his body shook. He didn't fight the arms, because they were comforting and gentle and motherly, and he remembered the embrace from an impossibly long ago time. The arms shifted him in their grasp and a woman was holding him. Death was holding him, carefully, as if he could break.

He could break. He'd already broken. Just like his family, now Katari was just scattered remains.

"S-someone- They- I'm- I'm dead! Oh God, oh God! Oh God!"

He screamed.

"Junji... Junji, stop." _You shouldn't have lied. That was a bad idea._ He heard the unspoken words. He heard them and he hated himself. Souji - his parents. What would happen? They already killed him, so would they kill them too? "Don't worry. Don't worry about them, it's okay."

It's okay?

"It's okay."

His parents were crying. He just realized. They were crying in the room. Souji was there. He had more bandages. He wasn't crying. He was broken. He looked dead. Katari _was_ dead.

He was still shaking. He was not screaming. He was crying. He was dead and he was crying.

He was dead. He was _dead_.

Death still held him and he turned away from his family, crying in her embrace. She stroked his head. "I didn't want to... I didn't want to..." To die? To make it worse? Anything. Everything.

"I know. Junji, do you want to meet the others?"

His breath caught. "O-others?"

"The other children. The real pilots."

His heart didn't beat, but it stopped. "What...?"

"They can talk to you. Some of them had a hard time accepting it too. It might help you, though."

The pilots were children. The pilots were dead.

Katari felt warm light, and he realized what a sick horrible world he had lived in.

"Don't worry. Don't worry about Souji. Someone else can worry about him soon."

Someone else? Someone else would take care of his little brother?

He wanted to ask who. But he closed his crying eyes instead, and went to meet the children who had fought to protect this horrible world.

(But if someone was left in it that would worry about Souji...)

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I almost didn't do a chapter for him. But then I realized his life was affected like the kids, and it would be wrong not to. It's a direct contrast to Komo's chapter, and I think that's what's the most painful about it. After a chapter praising the miracle of life, there's one that's dealing with destroying happiness, a death from a lie that's cursing the same world that was praised.


	14. Anko

**Disclaimer: Are you seriously still asking me this?**

**

* * *

**

Aiko "Anko" Tokosumi finished speaking, answered her father, and destroyed the enemy cockpit. She died moments later.

Her body went with her father, as he held it close, limp as he kneeled on the cockpit ground. Her soul fell back, almost as if it were falling out of her body, away from what tethered it to life.

It was a shell now.

Anko immediately looked down at her legs, relieved to see that they were in one piece. Her body had shifted when her father moved it, so she could see the bottom of her feet again, eaten at and pieced away. Her legs were pieces of cheese, holes through them, dissolved away at, rusted-

"Everyone," Papa was speaking. Anko looked at her Papa. "If there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, please don't hesitate to tell me." He held Anko's body closer as the inhabitants of the cockpit watched.

_Papa loves me._ It was a horribly light thought, and Anko, still on the cockpit ground, supporting herself with her hands, almost felt happy to know that.

The cockpit was silent, honestly, except for a few uncomfortable noises. Kana was starting to cry. Little Kana, she always cried. Anko was touched to know she still would. Kanji was solemn. Mrs. Tanaka was solemn. Mr. Sasami was solemn. Even Ushiro was solemn.

She looked at Machi. The other girl would be too, she knew.

"Machi...?"

What a surprise. Machi was crying too. She was, like Anko had been before, looking at the destroyed legs of Zearth's latest pilot. She was also looking at the destroyed chair that had taken the brunt of the acid, the chair that had belonged not to Anko, but to Machi. Still wearing the wig to disguise herself as Komo, Machi cried softly.

At that moment, Anko wished she'd gotten to know the other children better. The group of them were bonded in a way no one else ever could be. Still, she knew so little about all of them. She'd acted without a second thought, know if that acid had hit, Machi would have died. The fact that one of them was not in the contract was extremely prevalent. So had Machi been that person, then...

Well, one of them should be able to make it out of this alive. Even if that wasn't the case, Anko couldn't let anything happen to the rest of them. She was the pilot, so she had to protect them.

But she wished, very badly, that she had spent more of her last days with them. The other pilots. They could have all been wonderful friends.

"How long have you been here for?" She asked. That was a silly question. All of this had only taken less than a minute.

Anko turned her head to the side, where empty air should be, and standing next to her was the woman in black, impossibly pretty and casual. This woman was Death. She knew this woman was Death. Death extended a hand to her, and Anko took it, rising to her (very whole) feet.

In response, Death said, "You know how long. But I saw your speech. For a little girl, you've got great presence."

Impossibly, Anko laughed. "I only had that from mirroring Papa. I'm not that good when it really matters."

Death gave her a side-glance, her gaze on the cockpit wall. "But it really mattered then, didn't it?"

A silence lapsed between them, and Anko heard a murmuring. She turned her head to where Kanji, Ushiro, and Kana stood, and suddenly the tallest boy cleared his throat, his face caught between a smile and a grimace. "Guess it's my turn, guys."

Kana and Ushiro both looked at him, horrified and stunned respectively. Kana immediately grabbed on to him and cried harder. Helpless, Kanji patted her back in futility.

The light moment ended for Anko. She watched, eyes heavy, as the group started to gather themselves up. Machi had taken off the wig, and Mrs. Tanaka was talking to her now. Some of the acid had hit her cheek, after all, and that needed to be looked at. But none of them seemed to care about injuries or issues. Because now, there were only four of them left, soon to be three, and all the children looked tired. They all looked...really tired.

Just like Anko. "I don't think I want to be an idol anymore," she told Death. "You need to have so much energy, and the public's opinion can change too fast."

An arm slid around her shoulders. "What do you want to do instead?"

_Die._ But no. That's what she had already done.

"Maybe..." Anko looked at her father, standing now and holding her body. Somehow, she forced a smile. "I really liked talking to the world. Even if I'm dying hated and forgotten... I think I'd like to do that again."

What surprised Anko was when Death snorted. "You don't give yourself enough credit. 'Hated and forgotten?' Kid..." Anko felt tears prick her eyes. "That's the farthest you could ever get from the truth."

The cockpit emptied, leaving just the two of them, and Anko smiled up at Death, through her tears, and then the world grew so bright.

It was almost like looking at stars.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The next chapters will come when I feel like re-reading Kanji's portion. That was a very long, emotional section. I can't do that again right now. I'm also starting to realize how disgustingly short the early chapters were in comparison to these later ones, particularly my first four following Kokopelli (who was intended to have a short chapter). I'm thinking of going back and embellishing them, but I'm not sure.


End file.
